


Honey (artificial sugar)

by heyHEYOhSorry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyHEYOhSorry/pseuds/heyHEYOhSorry
Summary: Hermione knows that their relationship isn't real. What relationship only exists in club bathrooms and yet, she can't turn away.





	Honey (artificial sugar)

**Author's Note:**

> Hold up! So I took this drabble and made it a slightly longer drabble with a larger focus on feelings denial because I've been missing my girls and I absolutely love Pansmione.
> 
> Hopefully next time I'll be inspired to write a brand NEW piece, but until then...

This isn’t real. 

This relationship forged in club bathrooms, from vodka sodas and tequila sunrises. How many times had she promised herself that she wouldn’t do this again? How is it that she can keep a promise to anyone else besides herself? The bouncer gives her a funny look as he stamps her hand and let's her through. It's no wonder why, she doesn't belong here. It isn't a surprise that she hasn't been caught yet, who would believe Hermione Granger would frequent places like this?

Perhaps that's why It takes a matter of minutes for Pansy to find her. Pansy belongs here. The crowd seems to part as she walks through, Pansy glides on the floor in 6 inch heels.

"Granger." she says with a smirk, slithering up to Hermione's side and dropping a lingering kiss onto her cheek.

Here is the worst part: instead of the fear should she feel under Pansy's predatory stare, and despite the clear snake imagery that should have Hermione fleeing, Hermione relaxes into her embrace. Pansy steals two kisses before Hermione gives in and now they're snogging at the club bar. Even for a place as dingy as this, the behavior is unseemly. She’s been drinking, the taste of vodka mixes in with the typical taste of honey Hermione's accustom to. She knows because she's crudely sucking on Pansy tongue. 

In Pansy's bedroom, Pansy crawls on top of Hermione caressing the newly available skin as she makes work of Hermione’s buttons. Tender touches, slow disrobing, gentle kisses, Hermione’s learned what type of tipsy Pansy this means. It’s the most dangerous one, the one that preys on Hermione’s affection. 

Right on cue Parkinson leans back and looks into her eyes, “You’re so beautiful.” Pansy whispers, kissing down Hermione’s neck. “You’re breathtaking” Hermione hates how she can’t help but glow at Pansy’s words, how good the compliments feel inside. Even when she knows Pansy will deny these words tomorrow morning. “Please Pansy, just–” and Pansy does, raining little pecks across Hermione’s face, before her lips meet hers once again, that elusive taste of honey she can’t get anywhere else. 

Pansy’s determined, committed to pleasuring Hermione with nothing more than nips, laps, and licks. She pauses the moment she has Hermione on edge, “Tell me you need me” she whispers. “I need you” Hermione says without hesitation. “Tell me you love me” she says, staring up with a sly twinkle in her eyes, taking delight in the power she has over her. “I love you Pansy” she moans desperately. Pansy smirks, “Good” it's mumbled as Pansy runs her tongue over Hermione, over and in, fast until Hermione's gasping. If she said "I love you" in between her gasps and moans, she tells herself it doesn't mean anything.

"Go to sleep babe" Pansy grumbles. Pansy always goes to sleep after her orgasm. It sends Hermione's mind into over drive. Should she stay? Should she go? Tonight it seems that Pansy wants Hermione to stay. Her naked body is pulled close against Hermione, an arm tight around her waist.

It's nice. Sex with Pansy, sleeping with Pansy, kisses with Pansy, it's all very nice. But it isn't real.

This isn't real.

Even if Hermione doesn't understand the game that Pansy's playing, or why she'll go back to that bar the next weekend, Hermione understands that this isn't love. Love should be beautiful, and open, and free. It should have legs that can stand outside of a bedroom and dingy clubs. Love kisses you with morning breath. Love offers to make breakfast. This isn't love. She and Pansy don’t even exist when the sun is up. 

Hermione stares through the window across the room. The sky over London is dark space blue. She had time, a few hours to play in this delusion. Hermione closes her eyes and nests into Pansy arm, which tightens to keep her near. Now, she'll lose herself in the warmness of Pansy skin. Tomorrow, she'll inspect why nights with Pansy always lead her to thoughts on love. 

If only Pansy’s kisses tasted less like honey and more like artificial sugar.


End file.
